Pulling My Own Weight

By John Boel

My name is John. I'm 43 years old. And I have a confession to make:  I'm a Clydesdale.

Coming out of the Clydesdale closet is easy for some people.  For me, it has been a long, difficult, internal struggle.  The ramifications of this have weighed heavily on my mind, and my running shoes, for years.  But there comes a time in one's life when you have to come clean.

I remember when I first heard the term “Clydesdale” in association with a triathlon.  It was at the Frisch's Big Boy Triathlon in Ohio several years ago. How fitting. I noticed the category on the entry form, but I didn't read further because I thought competing as a Clydesdale in a Big Boy race was some kind of cruel joke.  I also didn't really think of myself as a Clydesdale yet.  The Clydesdale division is made up of males weighing 200 pounds or more. I had just hit 201 for the first time since high school football.  So I was still feeling more like 199 than 201.

I've never been good enough to finish top three in my age division in any distance race.  But when I crossed the line at the Big Boy triathlon, a race official reached for a trophy and offered it to me, saying, “Clydesdale, right?”  In my finish line chute delirium, I couldn't process what was going on, so I stumbled by.  A few moments later I realized what was happening.  I was good enough to win my first trophy if I admited to being a Clydesdale.  I quickly came to this conclusion:  What good is a Big Boy Clydesdale trophy?  I can't show it off to anyone. They'll laugh at me.

So I walked away with nothing but my usual mid-pack age group showing.

BECOMING A CLYDESDALE COMPETITOR

Over the years, I began noticing more races with Clydesdale divisions. Then a website popped up entitled teamclydesdale.com. Then HFP racing in Ohio came up with a “Built2XL” division. Get it?  That sounds more politically correct than Clydesdale.   The bottom line is, there's a concerted effort to make plus-sized men feel OK about competing in a separate division.  After all, if you think about it, there are no age divisions in the Olympics.  But there are plenty of weight divisions in sports like boxing and wrestling.

I made my Clydesdale debut in the Columbus Marathon. I was still flirting with the 200-lb. mark, so I drank a lot of water before I got on the scale at registration. Yes, they required proof of poundage.  That was the first and last time I've seen a race require proof through a weigh-in. Nowadays, I wish they'd bring the scales back, because I'm sure some of these thinner guys are inflating their weights to nudge me out of much-deserved trophies.  As a Clydesdale, I crossed the finish line in my slowest marathon time ever, collapsing in front of my family after the finish line, drawing paramedics and oxygen.  I was slow to realize the connection between extra pounds and extra paramedics.

I then learned that there are two types of Clydesdales: the too-many-burgers Clydesdale and the chiseled-NFL-linebacker Clydesdale. I met that second group at the Tri America series finale at Disney World when I stood toe-to-toe on the beach with scores of towering men who could play pro football, or even model briefs if they wanted to.  I sucked in my gut and somehow got second place. 

The more I deal with this weighty issue, the more I realize how much weight influences performance.  I read a stat in a runners' magazine once that claimed every extra pound you put on costs you three seconds per mile.  So if you put on 10 pounds right now, it will cost you 30 seconds per mile. Multiply that over a 10K race and it's three more minutes.  Multiply it out over a marathon and it's 13 minutes. I have found that stat to be deadly accurate.  And, I'm convinced my extra weight, not age, is the reason I'm battling injury problems for the first time.

There are many downsides to being a Clydesdale.  When we race, we get a different kind of “branding” symbol for our body marking.  It's kind of similar to how the big steers get branded separately on the ranch.  We're the last group to get our awards at the post-race ceremony.  Those who are still around make jokes about us. And when I show off my trophy or medal, it's not as rewarding as it could be. I have to explain what a Clydesdale is, and that inevitably draws jokes. And there are often very few entrants in the Clydesdale division.  So when people ask how many people I beat, it's embarrassing to say “four.”

But the good news is entries are starting to pick up in my weight range.  Serious studs are bringing the winning times way down. More people are accepting us. There are several divisions of Clydesdales now.  They even sort us into 40 and over, or 39 and under.

But don't get me wrong.  My best day as an athlete ... the moment I long for now ... will be when I step on the scale at a pre-race Clydesdale weigh-in and they say, “I'm sorry, Mr. Boel, you're 199. You don't weigh enough to participate in this division.”

John Boel is a 41-time Emmy-winning news anchor at WLKY-TV. He's married, has two daughters and is an avid runner and triathlete.